


Natasha Romanoff in The Spy Who Didn't Care

by NanashiJones



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Clint Barton & Natasha Romanov Friendship, Friendship, Gen, Male-Female Friendship, Meta Humor, hollywood shuffle, lots and lots of meta humor, marvel studios
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-24
Updated: 2015-11-24
Packaged: 2018-05-03 05:10:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5277890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NanashiJones/pseuds/NanashiJones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the success of the recent Marvel Studio Avengers and Avengers spin-off movies, Captain Marvel is getting her own film! And Black Widow isn't.</p>
<p>Not that Natasha Romanoff minds. She's a spy and a superhero. Her priorities have very little to do with Hollywood, so she's just fine with focusing on her real job rather than the PR machine.</p>
<p>But try telling that to the other Avengers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Natasha Romanoff in The Spy Who Didn't Care

Natasha knew something was up when Clint patted her on the shoulder, as she entered Avengers Tower.

She had her head down, absorbed in a mission report for Fury. Out of the corner of her eye, she noted Clint as he walked by. She raised her hand slightly in greeting, to which he responded with an unprecedented _consoling_ _pat_ on the shoulder. 

Snapped from her reverie, she turned to question him. But Clint was already out of the tower, lost in New York's morning foot traffic. Eyes narrowed, she shook her head. It must have been just one of Clint's antics. Part of some prank to antagonize Steve, or Vision, or someone. 

Getting on the elevator, she put it out of her mind. But, in front of the kitchen, less than ten minutes later, she ran into Stark.

“If you want me to throw my ridiculous amounts of wealth around, I will do so,” he said, looking at her soberly. “You’re a friend, and you deserve better,” he added, perplexingly.

Tony patted her shoulder, in almost the  _same_ way Clint had, then walked off. Natasha gaped after him.

As she did, she realized the junior agents, and other busybodies of Avengers Tower, were casting surreptitious glances her way. Sidelong looks of wary pity.

“What’s going on?” Natasha hissed under her breath. Hastily, she pulled out her phone, and checked the active intel on her. No hits had been put out. No old contracts were on the warpath. Hell, there weren’t even any nutbars in costume posturing about her "inevitable doom." So why was-

There. At the bottom of her feed. Under “Entertainment.” The only possible, if entirely ridiculous, explanation.

"Captain Marvel to Get Movie Ahead of Black Widow."

_Der'mo,_ Natasha thought.

 

* * *

 

 

Clint, Tony, and the junior spook squad weren't the only ones who had read that particular entertainment blurb. The morning meeting opened with absurdity. Natasha could only sit in astonishment as she watched it unfold. 

"You're hot, you're an assassin, you have four movies already under your belt- I'd have Luc Besson do something with you. Like that," Stark said, snapping his fingers.

"Luc Besson?" Steve asked.

"French director," Sam said, leaning toward Steve. "Got a thing for dark stories with tough-as-nails women. But, he's a little high brow for me. Good European audience, but Widow needs big name, Stateside."

"Shane Black'd be good," Rhodey pointed out. "He made Tony and me look pretty slick."

"Oooo yeah. Have Nat killing people in a Christmas hat," Stark said, rubbing his chin, thoughtfully.

Natasha rubbed her eyes, trying to wake up from this bizarre dream. She didn't blame her teammates for this idiocy. Not really.

Ever since the Avengers saved the world, people had wanted  _more_ . More info, more talk shows, more face time, more, more, more. But Nat, Tony, Bruce, Steve, and the rest of the Avengers had been too busy still saving the world, or at least parts of it, to feed the need.

So, in true human fashion, Hollywood made it happen. Action figures, toy lines, interviews, tell-all biographies, and, of course,  _movies_ .

_Avengers Assemble_ was the highest grossing movie in history, followed closely by  _Iron Man, Captain America: The First Avenger,_ and  _Thor_ . The sequels were in categories all their own.

The end result was that most of the Avengers were now minor Hollywood buffs. This wasn't surprising for Stark, given the circles he traveled in. Sam, too, made sense- he lived and breathed Netflix in his free time. But watching the rest of her teammates catch the fever was equal parts amusing and scary. Steve had opinions on actors. Steve didn't have opinions on which restaurant the team went to, and he had opinions on  _actors_ .

Natasha didn't have opinions on any of it. It was too surreal. Like a protracted black ops mission where someone was playing her double. Except nobody was trying to kill her. Well, nobody new.

But Fury  _had_ asked her to play ball for good will, and she was a professional. So, she'd answered Scarlett's questions the best she could, and gave her pointers. Natasha even gave her actor the names of a few possible trainers who could get her in "Hollywood Widow" shape. Then, she largely put the whole thing out of her head and went back to doing the work.

Until today.

"You know, maybe I should call my clone, see what he thinks," Stark said.

"Your clone?" Wanda asked, raising an eyebrow. "Tony, you  _swore_ that you and Bruce weren't doing anything-"

"He means Bobby," Bruce interjected quickly. "Robert Downey Jr. The guy who plays him."

Everyone looked at Bruce.

"You call Robert Downey Jr. 'Bobby?'" Rhodey said, slowly.

"You call RDJ your 'clone?'" Sam said to Tony, who grinned smugly and cocked his eyebrows.

Bruce blushed, shrugged, and tried to melt under the table. "We've all had dinner. He's nice."

"You know what else is nice?" Fury rumbled, thumping his Starkpad down on the table. "Doing our jobs. You wanna gossip about who's blowing who in Hollywood, do it on your own damn time. Unless you have something to add, Romanoff?"

All eyes on Natasha. Fury was an ass for putting her on the spot about the stupid movie. He was also an ass for letting everyone go on about it for so long, but since she had everyone’s attention....

"I don't care," she said, sitting up and meeting everyone's eyes, one at a time. " _This_ is my job, and that's…" She waved her hand dismissively. "A whole other world, as far as I'm concerned. We already lose a lot of time to PR and spin, doing what we do. All of you know how I feel about that." She swept her gaze over the team again.

Thor leaned forward, face intense. "But Lady Romanoff, your deeds should be sung in glory. If this world's bards do not properly recognize you, how can you be known as a true hero?"

Natasha held herself tall. "By doing my damn job. I'm an Avenger. So are you guys. Act like it."

Steve beamed at Natasha from across the table. She could tell he was suppressing the urge to applaud.

"There. I said shut up, and so did Romanoff, the person you old hens are gossiping about," Fury growled. "Now." He tapped a control panel and a map of Africa came up. "Let's talk saving the world."

 

* * *

 

 

Clint reappeared two days later, while Natasha was working the heavy bag in the gym. He slid around to stabilize it for her.

“Thanks,” she said, adjusting her stance. She sped up her hits.

“Sooooo, just wanted you to know," he said, tone conspiratorial. "Tony and I are turning up the heat on Hollywood. Because what’s happening to you is bullshit.”

Natasha halted mid-punch, staring at Clint.

“Clint,” she said, voice stern. “You’re kidding right?”

Clint blinked. “Nnnnoooo?”

She rubbed a wrapped hand over her face.  _God, save me from this conversation_ , she thought.

“Clint, how good of an agent are you?"

"Damn good," he said, matter-of-factly.

"So. You obviously heard about what I said in the morning meeting, while you were out?"

"Right," he said.

"So why, in the nine blue hells, are you and Tony going after Hollywood on my behalf?"

"And Sam!" Steve called from where he was skipping rope in a circuit around the nearby boxing ring. "He's in on it, too!"

" _Boze moi,_ " Natasha groaned, rubbing at her face.

"So that wasn't just a screen? Because this is a huge deal, Nat," Clint said. "I'd be tearing shit up left and right."

"Really. They aren't even talking about making a movie about you," Natasha said.

“Yeah, but I got some time to shine in the sequel.  _And_ , my comic kicks ass.” He preened. Only Clint Barton could hold a punching bag and preen.

Natasha rolled her eyes. “Clinton Francis Barton," she said, using her godmother voice. "I’m only going to say this once more, so you  _will_ understand me.”

“Right,” Clint said, suitably cowed.

“I don’t care if Hollywood makes a movie about me.”

Clint bit his lip and tilted his head. “Really?”

"Really!" Steve called, hopping from foot to foot while the jump rope spun around him.

"Stay out of this, Rogers!" Clint called.

"Just backing her up!" Steve said. Natasha smirked.

Clint scowled. "You wanna back her up, get her a movie! You already got two!"

Steve shrugged, continuing on his way.

Clint huffed and faced Natasha seriously. “Look, it just sucks, alright?” he said. “You were on the first team. Hell, you almost beat out Banner for first on screen. And then they give the first lady led film to  _Carol_ . No offense to her; she’s awesome. But you were first.”

“Doesn’t mean I’m a good choice,” Natasha replied, settling back into her stance. She threw a few light jabs, finding her rhythm again. “I’m not exactly family friendly, if you haven’t noticed.”

“Says the godmother of my children," he replied, warmly. "Lila wore your costume at Halloween.”

"And I was touched," she said. "But I am a trained operative, Clint. It's one thing to have my godchild dress up as me. But there are other little girls dressing up as me-"

"Looking up to you…" Clint interjected, with a grin.

Natasha scowled at him. "They shouldn't. I have red in-"

"Yeah, yeah. You gave that line to Scarlett, and she snuck it in. We all know it, Natasha," Clint said. "But just because you've done bad, doesn't mean you're not worth the good you've done, too. I believed it before, and I still believe it now."

Natasha sighed and leaned against the punching bag.

Clint looked her over. “You...  _really_ don’t care, do you?” he said, softly.

“I really don’t,” Natasha replied.

Clint sighed, looked away. Facing her again, he asked, “Do you care if Tony and I mount a crusade against Hollywood?”

“Seems ridiculous to me, but do whatever makes you feel best, Clint," she said, pushing off the bag to face him again. "Now." She put up her dukes. "Make me work for it,  _‘suka!_ ”

Clint laughed. Twirling the bag, he started moving it around, giving Natasha a moving target to practice on. Steve eventually finished his own workout, and they traded off, shifting the bag between them, keeping Natasha up to the task of her  _true_ job.

 

* * *

 

 

Things went quiet for a few days, but despite her declarations, the damn subject just wouldn't drop.  _Everyone_ seemed to have an opinion about Natasha's "movie," or lack thereof.

So, rather than shoot the entirety of the Avengers and S.H.I.E.L.D, and start a new life in Milan (an option she considered when Clint sent her an invite to his fanpage:  _Gimme a Black Widow Movie or I'll Hawkeye Your Hollywood Asses_ ), Natasha rolled with the punches. She  _was_ a professional, dammit.

She worked out in the  _other_ S.H.I.E.L.D. gym when she encountered too many pitying looks in the main gym’s locker room. She rolled her eyes when it came up on the comms chatter.  She smiled politely and changed the topic over beer with the boys, or wine with the girls. She professional-ed the shit out of the subject.

And after a few weeks, thankfully, mercifully, the talk died away. Normalcy, or at least what passed for it with Natasha, reasserted itself.

Until she found herself alone with Captain Marvel, one afternoon.

Carol Danvers landed gracefully on the helicopter pad just outside the commons room. Natasha was sipping tea as she updated a contacts list for a child smuggling ring when she heard the door slide open. She raised her hand in brief greeting.

“Oh! Uh… hey,” Carol said, changing directions. “Didn’t… expect to run into you.”

“I’m an Avenger, too,” Natasha said, still focused on her work.  _I'll have to call in a favor on this one,_ she thought.

“Yeah, but… y’know.” The quiet suddenly felt... awkward.

Natasha stopped tapping at her Starkpad. She looked up, and found Carol just a few feet away, looking sheepish.

Carol was almost as tall as Steve, built like Natasha and Clint, and could wrestle with Hulk and Thor, with the possibility of winning. This was all in addition to being a  _Major_ in the Air Force. Sheepish was not in Carol Danvers’ vocabulary, much less her body language. As hilarious as it looked, sheepish Carol could only mean one thing.

“ _Boze moi,_ ” Natasha muttered, pressing her face into her palm.  _Not now_ , she thought _. It's been so peaceful._

Carol blinked.

“I don’t care, Carol,” Natasha said, flatly. She turned a thoroughly unamused look on the other woman. “I’ve told Tony, I’ve told Clint, I’ve even told the media. I immensely, supremely don’t care. I’m happy for you.  _Honestly_ .”

Carol blinked again, her cheeks pinking. “Oh?” she squeaked.

“Yes. You do much better in the spotlight than I do.”

Carol shrugged, making a face. “Maaaaybe?” She flapped her hands. “I mean, everyone loves a pilot, right?"

Natasha gave her a look.

"Right," Carol said, coughing into her fist. "Whatever. So, it’s not weird?”

“It’s not weird," Natasha assured her. "Unless you want to make it weird, I assure you, it is  _not_ ."

Carol exhaled, smiling. “Awesome. I definitely don’t want to make it weird,” she said, floating over to the chair across from Natasha. “So we’re good?”

Natasha smiled and nodded, putting a hand on Carol’s arm. “Yes, Carol. We are good.” She removed her hand from Carol's arm and offered a fist.

Carol slumped back against the seat. “You would not believe how much a relief that is," she admitted, happily bumping her fist against Natasha's. "I’ve been avoiding the tower, like some guilty teenager, because of this whole movie thing."

Natasha snorted, and resumed editing her contact list. "Have more grace, Carol. It's only Hollywood."

"Yeah, but it gets in all these weird places. Like, I ran into Parker a little while ago, and we chatted about him bumping me, and-"

"Him what?" Natasha said, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh, well, Marvel got the rights to the Spider-man movies, so they bumped my film to make room for his," she said, matter-of-factly.

Natasha put the Starkpad down slowly, gaze intent on Carol’s face. "Do tell."

"Not much to tell. Parker bumped me, T'Challa's flick,  _and_ Thor's third movie," Carol said, ticking off fingers. "But now  _that’s_ a non-issue, because Scott's movie did whatever Hollywood wanted it to. So, he and Hope bumped the rest of us,  _more_ ." She shrugged. "It's like this utter nut house. But reporters are always asking me about it, so I- where are you going, Natasha?"

Natasha stopped at the door, eyes flashing with fire. “They bumped you, Parker, Thor, and  _T’Challa_ ,” she said, her voice too calm. "For Ant-man."

"Eeeyeah?" Carol agreed. "But it's not a big deal. I mean, I don't ca-"

“Ant. Man.” Natasha held up a finger. "I'm reaching out to Tony and Clint,” she said, dialing.

“Why?”

Natasha grinned savagely. “Because they snubbed you," she said, in a voice that chilled Carol's blood. "And nobody snubs my friends on my watch. Tony? It's Natasha. Get your clone, I am ready to shame Hollywood."

Carol winced. Black Widow "shaming Hollywood" was not something she wanted on her conscience . "Natasha, you really don't need to do this..." she said, Fury's scowling face already haunting her.

Natasha, phone pressed tightly to her ear, pointed at Carol. "Solidarity," she hissed. And stormed out of the tower to raise hell.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks, as always to my forever alpha and editor, Tempest. May the bards sing of your glory as well, love.
> 
> And I'd like a Black Widow movie, too. But I'd also like an A-Force cartoon, a Miss Marvel Netflix series, a Spider-Gwen with Emma Stone movie, and a lot of other things. Hopefully, one of these things will come true.


End file.
